


The Full Value Of A Joy

by GillianInOz



Series: The Full Value of a Joy [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Fatherhood, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 15:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20066161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GillianInOz/pseuds/GillianInOz
Summary: ‘Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have someone to divide it with.’~ Mark Twain





	The Full Value Of A Joy

The market town was quiet and almost deserted when they walked in from the parked jumper site. Stalls were shuttered in the noon day sun, and the breeze was hot and dusty on their skin.

“McKay is gonna be pretty disappointed,” Ronon said, scanning the area with narrow eyes. A skinny catlike creature was sunning itself on a nearby stone wall, it turned and surveyed them with slitted blue eyes as they strolled by. “He asked me to get some of that chocolate stuff he likes.”

“It seems very quiet when the market is closed,” Teyla observed. “I think it’s a pity the Travelers didn’t want to meet us here on a Market Day. Torren enjoys the hard candy from the sweets vendor.”

“Sticks to my teeth,” Sheppard said absently, doing his own visual scan. “Even for a non-market day, does it seem a bit too quiet to you?”

“Travelers,” Ronon said shortly, nodding to the group of half a dozen men and women sitting in the shade around the well. 

Sheppard wasn’t sure how he could tell, most of the people in these small towns seemed to all dress the same. An eclectic mixture of leather and homespun, sometimes with a single piece of colourful dyed fabric made into a skirt or vest. 

“Perhaps the townsfolk suspect trouble and are staying out of sight?” Teyla said.

The group around the well looked up as they approached and John felt the hairs prickle at the back of his neck. “I can see why they would,” he murmured. While there was nothing that was outright hostile in the looks they were getting, there was certainly something guardedly watchful in the Travelers stance. “Ronon, go back to the jumper and keep an ear out for our call. These are Travelers remember, and we don’t know what access to Ancient tech they have. Wouldn’t want our ride hijacked.”

Ronon nodded and turned back.

“Do you have reason to suspect hostility from the Travelers, Colonel?” Teyla asked quietly. “I thought our alliance was quite strong.”

“I’ve learned not to assume anything about the Travelers,” Sheppard said wryly. He stopped as a woman appeared in the doorway of a stone house near the well. She lifted one hand in a wave, and for a moment John thought it was Larrin standing there, slim and fair haired. Within a moment he realised his mistake.

“Colonel Sheppard?” The woman greeted as they approached. “I’m Co-Captain Olin of the Traveler ship the Solange. Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”

“Olin,” Sheppard said politely. “This is Teyla Emmagan. Atlantis is always happy to meet with our Traveler allies.”

“Please come inside,” Olin said. “It’s much cooler.”

Up close Sheppard could see why he’d mistaken Olin for Larrin, other than because Larrin was the one who had invited them to meet. Olin was the same height, had the same honey brown hair and shared similar features with the Traveler captain John had met on two previous occasions.

It was definitely cooler and dimmer inside, and Sheppard casually kept his hand on his gun until his eyes adjusted to the light. The room was small and clean, with a table and a few chairs. Along the wall ran benches, covered with the detritus of every day life. A stack of earthenware dishes, a vase with some dusty greenery, rolls of fabric that might have been napkins or hand towels.

“I have to admit I’m curious, Olin,” Sheppard said, ignoring the proffered chair and choosing to remain standing. “I thought Larrin wanted to talk to me. That’s the message I got.”

Olin smiled tightly. “Sorry for the slight deception, I wanted to be sure you would come personally.” She nodded at Teyla. “Because this is in fact a personal matter,” she continued pointedly.

“I’d rather Teyla stay, if you don’t mind,” Sheppard said, glancing at Teyla and returning her quick nod. “No secrets in my team.”

Olin looked dissatisfied, but again attempted a smile. “If you’re sure. The matter is very personal, but I suppose it can’t remain a secret. Please,” she gestured again to the chairs and this time sat herself, a weary sigh escaping as she perched stiffly on the edge of the wooden seat. 

“Personal?” Sheppard followed suit and sat, but kept his gun on his lap, making sure his back was to the wall and not the window or doors. Teyla chose to sit on the padded window seat, her eyes moving back and forth from Sheppard and Olin inside to the road outside. “Not sure what personal business any Traveler could have with me. I haven’t even seen Larrin since the replicator battle. And if it’s personal, why didn’t she come herself?”

“Larrin is dead,” Olin said baldly, her face blank. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sheppard said sincerely. “I wouldn’t exactly say we were friends, but she was an ally when we needed her. All your people were. How did it happen?”

Olin licked her lips nervously, for the first time her cool mask slipping. “Larrin… changed, in the last few years,” she said quietly. “Events changed her. She was always fiercely loyal to our people, and willing to do whatever it took to protect them.”

“As all good leaders are,” Teyla said gently as Olin’s voice trailed away.

“We don’t have leaders as your people do. Larrin was a captain, and a well respected one, but even she… erred at times. Made mistakes.” Olin lifted her gaze and met Sheppard’s squarely, her eyes bright with tears. “Had regrets.”

Sheppard shifted uncomfortably. He couldn’t really see where this was going, but the idea that Larrin had been holding some kind of torch for him was a pretty worrying one. He’d found the feisty captain intriguing and attractive, sure, but he and McKay had been pretty much exclusive by the time he’d met her, and the dangerous flirting with the badass alien space captain had never gone beyond what Rodney called his comic-book-geek-fantasy stage. 

“It’s the leather pants,” Rodney had said wisely. “Any closet geek worth his Wonder Woman t-shirt is gonna go nuts for a hot space chick in leather pants.” John had been forced to tackle him to the bed for that comment, earning him a very nice squawk of outrage from Rodney for his pains.

“And did this mistake lead to her death?” Teyla asked gently.

Olin took a deep breath and then shook her head. “Indirectly. You’ll forgive me, but this is very difficult. Larrin and I were cousins, raised as close as sisters. This is not easy for me, and you can have no idea how much I wish I didn’t have to do this. But I swore an oath as Larrin lay dying, after she had confessed to me what she had done. An oath I cannot break.”

“What did she do?” Sheppard asked, because he had literally no idea what Larrin could have done that was so terrible it had to be confessed. Sure, there had been some threats and torture when they first met, but after that the Travelers had come to the party as allies when needed, and a year or so later Atlantis had helped shut down a device that was destroying stargates and killing people all over the galaxy, including a Traveler colony. 

“You must understand the importance of the Ancient gene you carry to my people,” Olin said, and Sheppard blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “That ability to access the Ancient tech left scattered across the galaxy, including ships whose scavenged parts are vital to our survival.”

“I remember her saying as much as she took my blood,” Sheppard said wryly. 

Olin squared her shoulders. “That’s not all that was taken from you as you lay unconscious,” she said grimly.

Sheppard exchanged a wary glance with Teyla, who had stiffened in her seat. “What?” he said tightly. “What else did she take from me, Olin?”

“Your son,” Olin whispered harshly.

Sheppard was already shaking his head. “No,” he said automatically, pushing to his feet. “Larrin and I didn’t... We never…”

Olin also stood, facing him bravely. “While you were unconscious,” she repeated. She flicked a glance at Teyla as the Athosian woman stepped to her team mate and laid a hand on his arm. 

“What are you saying, Olin?” Teyla said, her face twisted in disbelief. “She violated Colonel Sheppard? Raped a prisoner as he lay drugged?”

Both Sheppard and Olin winced at the word. “It was a medical procedure,” Olin hastened to say. 

“And that makes it less of a violation?” Teyla said angrily, while Sheppard just stood there, unable to think of a thing to say. Rape. Violation. A son.

“Son?” he managed, voice hoarse. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I have a son?”

Teyla’s hand gripped his forearm more tightly, and Sheppard was suddenly glad of the supporting touch, feeling as if he was going to just faint dead away, or worse, spring for Olin’s throat and shake her like a dog.

“I swear to you,” Olin said desperately. “I swear, she told no one what she’d done. I knew she bore your child, but I thought it was consensual between you. And while I personally did not agree that she had the right to keep the knowledge of his existence from you, I could see the value in having a child with your gene –“

“Where is he?” Sheppard said loudly, drowning out her words. “Where is… my son?”

Olin looked behind her at the door to the adjoining room, but held out a hand as Sheppard glanced towards it. “Please,” she beseeched. “Please hear me out. I swear you will not be kept from the child a moment longer than necessary, but there are things you must know before you see him. Before you… take him. If you intend to take him?” she said, voice faltering.

“Of course we will take him,” Teyla said, and Sheppard was once more deeply glad that he’d insisted she stay. He couldn’t even imagine how he’d have gotten through this alone. His thoughts were racing, a thousand possibilities rushing through his brain. But his legs seemed firmly planted on the threadbare carpet beneath his feet, and he had no immediate desire to open that door and see… his son.

“Are there more?” Sheppard blurted out as the thought occurred to him. “Are there more children? I mean, Larrin wanted my gene, but why put all her eggs in one basket? Take the chance on 50% of my DNA with one baby alone. Are there more kids with my gene out there now?”

His knees grew weak at the guilty expression on Olin’s face, and a moment later Teyla’s strong arm was supporting him and he found himself abruptly sitting back in the chair.

“How could your people allow such a violation?” Teyla was demanding, her voice seeming to come in and out as Sheppard tried to process this latest news. “You say no one knew what Larrin had done, and yet now you say others took part in this hideous scheme?”

“Five others,” Olin said, her hands twisting in front of her. “One the doctor who performed the procedure on Colonel Sheppard. The others crew members who volunteered. For the good of our people.”

“Five?” Sheppard said incredulously. “Five others? I have six kids out there?”

Olin shook her head. “Only two others besides Larrin conceived,” she said quickly.

“Oh, only two?” Sheppard said, half hysterical. 

“Where are these children?” Teyla demanded. “Who are their mothers? They must answer for this crime, and Colonel Sheppard must be given the right to at least see his offspring.”

Olin was shaking her head, tears over spilling her eyes now. She clutched at her chair and sat back down. “I’m sorry,” she wept. “I’m so sorry. It was another boy and a girl, but they are beyond all reach now. They were part of our colony on Creshta. They perished when the stargate there blew up. I’m sorry, but they died along with their mothers on that terrible day.”

Teyla’s hand on his shoulder squeezed even more tightly now, and Sheppard closed his eyes as silence descended on the room, punctuated only by the sound of Olin’s soft weeping.

“I have to get out of here,” Sheppard whispered. “I can’t…”

“Bring us the child,” Teyla said harshly to Olin. “His father will take him. But neither you nor your people have heard the last of this matter.”

“I…” Olin sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. “He doesn’t know you,” she said lowly. “He’s very young, and he’s known so few people in his life. He will be frightened by strangers.”

“What’s his name?” Sheppard said, jaw tight. He didn’t even know his son’s name. He wouldn’t ever know the names of his other two children, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. They weren’t quite real to him right now, although he was pretty sure that would change. All he wanted was to get out of this dusty room, away from this place and Teyla’s horrified outrage, Olin’s tear swollen eyes.

“Aran,” Olin said. “It was our grandfather’s name. He was a great captain, a hero…” Her voice died away. “Whatever his mother’s crimes,” she said a little more firmly, “half his heritage is Traveler. And none of this is his fault.”

“Enough,” Teyla said. “This is not the time to look for sympathy from the man your people have wronged so grievously. Colonel Sheppard needs to take his son home.”

Olin bowed her head. “I will bring him.”

Teyla waited until the door to the adjoining room had clicked closed behind Olin before she dropped to her knees next to him. “John?” she said quietly. “Try and hold it together until we get back home, ok?”

Sheppard laid his hand over hers, feeling the icy chill of shock in his fingers. “I’m okay,” he said, swallowing the bile in his throat. This was too big to absorb, too much to take in. If Larrin hadn’t died, or if Olin had broken her promise, he would have gone through the rest of his life not knowing he had been a father for nearly two years. Not knowing…

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?” Sheppard said, meeting Teyla’s troubled gaze. “About the other two.” He swallowed hard again. “Being dead?”

“I think she has no reason to lie about such a thing,” Teyla said with quiet sympathy. “If she were going to lie she could have simply told you Larrin was the only one to conceive.”

Sheppard shook his head. “I can’t believe any of this,” he began, but then Olin was pushing open the door holding a baby in her arms, and everything became very real all at once. “Teyla,” John said desperately. “Would you?”

Because he couldn’t. He couldn’t even look closely at the child beyond the dark hair springing up from a small head. Hair as dark as his own.

“Of course,” Teyla said. John watched numbly as she gathered the boy into her arms with the ease of motherhood. He was about the same age and size as Torren, John realised. 

“Aran,” Teyla said gently, and touched her forehead to the child’s. “Welcome, Aran Sheppard.”

:: :: :: 

Olin watched them go from the doorway of the house, her fingers tightly linked in front of her. Sheppard had no room for sympathy in the face of her obvious grief, no room for anything except putting one foot in front of the other. In the street the group of men and women straightened from their lounging positions by the well, watching narrow eyed as he and Teyla walked to the edge of town, the child perched on Teyla’s hip. 

Sheppard’s fingers toyed with the safety on his P-90, wondering if they were surprised to see him leaving with the child. Had they thought he’d just shrug off the news that he had a son? That he’d just walk away? 

Ronon met them by the jumper with a nod, one brow lifting at the sight of the baby on Teyla’s hip.

“Let’s just get inside,” Teyla said, and after a searching glance at the baby and another at Sheppard’s face, he nodded and stepped up into the jumper’s interior. 

Numbly John pushed past them both and took his place in the pilot’s chair, automatically closing the hatch and cloaking them. Then he just sat and stared at the console as Teyla spoke softly to Ronon in the rear compartment. He didn’t try to hear the words, he didn’t need to hear them again, well aware that he was going to have to go through the whole sordid story back on Atlantis to Woolsey, and then in his report, and then - Oh god, and then to Rodney.

“Sheppard.” Ronon sat beside him in the co-pilot chair. “Don’t know what to say,” he said gruffly. “I’d offer to go kill someone for you, but who? Sounds like pretty much everyone who did this to you is dead.”

Teyla took a seat behind them, and John sensed rather than saw she was now cradling the child on her lap. 

“I don’t think you should be flying right now, John,” she said gently. 

John looked down at his shaking hands before burying them in his lap out of sight. “I just need a minute.”

“Take as long as you need,” she said. “I’m sure you’d prefer to gather your composure now, before you have to face everyone at home.”

“I’d like a minute or two for that myself,” Ronon said. “I wasn’t joking about wanting to kill someone. If someone had done that to me…” He shook his head, his short dreads swinging. 

“I lived for weeks with the knowledge that unless I could escape or be rescued, Michael would steal my baby away from me,” Teyla said sombrely. “I cannot imagine what you’re going through right now, John, truly. But..” She broke off, laid a hand on his shoulder. “But you are not the only victim here. Aran is a victim too. Stolen from his father, cut off from the culture of half his ancestry. He is not to blame for any of this.”

Instant rage boiled up inside Sheppard and he swung in his seat, only to have the rage die away back to sickness as he looked at a Teyla’s anguished face. “I know that,” he said, as calmly as he could manage. “For God’s sake, of course I know that.” 

“Then look at your son, John. Acknowledge him.”

“What if he’s not?” Sheppard said, swinging back around again and staring through the windshield at the dusty trees surrounding the quiet town. “What if Olin was lying? Shouldn’t we wait and get his DNA tested before –“

He broke off as Teyla reached out and picked up a life signs detector from the console. They worked for everyone once initialised, but this one was switched off and lay dormant in her hand. Reluctantly John followed her motions as she carefully presented the small device to the toddler on her lap, who reached for it with pudgy fingers and carried it directly to his mouth.

Oh god, Sheppard thought, barely noticing as the LSD lit up. Pale skin, wide, hazel eyes, a cowlick of unruly black hair. That was his face looking back at him in miniature as the baby industriously chewed on the corner of the device, until Teyla’s gentle fingers guided it away from his lips.

“Look, Aran,” she said softly. “Look how pretty it is. Look how it glows.”

“Pwitty,” Aran said. “Mine?” 

“Oh, God,” John said. 

“Not much doubt about that,” Ronon rumbled. 

:: :: ::

Settled back in the jumper bay in Atlantis, John rubbed his face roughly, trying to find some kind of calm centre to deal with the coming storm. “Would you like me to make the report to Mr Woolsey, John?” Teyla offered, but John shook his head. 

“Let’s get medical out of the way first,” he said. “I’m sure Woolsey will turn up as soon as word reaches him. Thanks though,” he remembered to say. 

“Would you like to..?” She held Aran out as John stood, but at his instant step back towards the console Ronon reached out strong arms and easily lifted the toddler to his shoulder. 

“I’ll carry him,” Ronon said, leading the way. 

Personnel working in the area stopped and stared as they crossed the bay and stepped into the transporter, and John figured they had ten minutes tops until someone said something to Woolsey about the child. After all, it wasn’t every day an SGA team came strolling back through the stargate with an 18 month old baby in tow. 

Carson stuck his head around his office door and stared at them for a moment, looking past them down the hall as if expecting to see someone else. “Colonel,” he greeted in his amiable way. “Ronon, Teyla. Brought me a wee visitor have you?”

“Could we conduct our med checks in private, Carson?” Teyla said, glancing around the room at the curious faces of the medical personnel. 

Carson frowned, but nodded. “Of course,” he said, gesturing towards a curtained off area at the back. “No Rodney today?”

“Dr McKay and Dr Zelenka are very close to a breakthrough on ZPM recharging,” Teyla said, helping as Carson drew the curtains closed around the area. “He did not go with us today.” She looked at Sheppard. “Colonel, would you like Ronon and I to leave while you tell Carson what has occurred?”

John shrugged, trying to keep his expression flat. “Not much point. You guys know as much as I do.” He sat up on the nearest gurney, as Ronon and Teyla did the same. In Ronon’s arms the baby was stirring, making grumbly little noises. “Amma,” Aran said crossly. “Hungy, Amma.”

“Shall I get something sent up for him from the mess?” Carson offered. “What age is he, Teyla, about Torren’s age do you reckon?”

“Yes,” Teyla confirmed. “The kitchens keep some jars of food for Torren for when I’m away on a mission. I’ll call and ask them to send some up.”

“Good thinking, lass.” Carson looked thoughtfully from the grizzling baby in Ronon’s arms, to John’s shuttered face, and back again. “And then maybe you and Ronon can go see Marie and Gerald to get your med checks done? I think I’ll have a wee word with the Colonel alone after all. And your own lad will be looking out for you too, Teyla.”

Carson reached out and gathered Aran into his arms, jiggling him a bit and clucking soothingly. “There there,” he said to the baby’s fretting face. “We’ll soon get you fed. What a bonny little lad you are, eh? What’s your name then?”

“Aran,” Teyla said, as John remained silent. “His name is Aran.” She touched John’s shoulder as she pushed a curtain aside. Ronon hopped nimbly off the gurney and made the same gesture, gripping tight for a minute. “We’re not far away,” he said, and left.

“Right,” Carson said briskly. “Now it’s been a while since I studied paediatrics, but I’ve brushed up on a few of my skills since Torren was born. So I know this little lad probably only has a vocabulary of about 20 words, and won’t understand too much of what we discuss. There there,” he soothed again, as Aran leaned his head on his shoulder and started a low cry. “Dinner’s coming, I promise.”

John turned his head away from the sight, hating the thin little cry, dimly wondering if the other two had had time to cry as the stargate exploded and took away their lives before he’d even known they existed. 

Maybe he should have asked their names.

“Hmm,” Carson said. He disappeared through the curtains and John barely noticed he was gone until a penlight was shining into his eyes and he reared back in surprise. 

“What?” he said, looking around the cubicle.

“Shock, I’d say,” Carson said, fingers on his wrist, taking his pulse. “Don’t worry about the babby, one of my nurses is feeding him. I thought it best we speak alone after all.”

“He’s my son,” Sheppard said numbly. 

“Aye, I guessed as much,” Carson said. He handed over a travel mug and Sheppard looked at it blankly. “Hot, sweet tea,” Carson said briskly. “Best thing for shock. That and a little time and breathing space.” He stepped back and leaned against the gurney opposite, hands idly clutching the ends of the stethoscope slung around his neck. “Now, you want to tell me what happened?”

John felt the warmth of the tea through the mug, and breathed in the sweet fragrance before taking a sip. The warmth spread down his throat into his chest, easing a bit of the tightness and freeing his voice. 

“We received a message that Larrin wanted to speak with me,” he said. Had that only been this morning? He felt as if he’d aged years since receiving the relayed request. 

“She’s a captain of one of the Travelers ships, isn’t she?”

“She was,” Sheppard said. “She’s dead.”

“I see,” Carson said, and John knew he could probably leave it at that. He could probably let everyone draw the same inference. A careless affair with a space pilot. An unplanned baby. His chickens coming home to roost. That’s what most people were going to think, that’s what he wanted most people to think. The truth was just too sordid, too horrible to become fodder for common gossip.

But right now, to Carson and Woolsey, he had to report everything he knew. Get it over and done and god willing never have to speak of it again.

“When the Travelers held me prisoner they took some of my blood. Because of the gene.”

“I recall the report,” Carson said softly. 

“But they didn’t just take my blood. I never slept with her,” Sheppard said. “They wanted my gene, so they took my… They took my sperm.” He kept his eyes on his mug, not wanting to see whatever look was on Carson’s face. 

There was silence for a few moments before Carson spoke, and when he did his voice was tight. “I’m guessing you didn’t know about this at the time?”

“No,” Sheppard said, scrubbing at his face with both hands. “God, no. I would never have consented, I would have demanded they give it back if I’d known, once we were allies.”

“No wonder you’re in shock,” Carson said grimly. “Twice violated. Once while unconscious, and once more when she kept your son from you.”

John shook his head numbly, searching for words. “Three,” he said finally. “There were three. Six women, three pregnancies.”

“Good, god,” Carson swore. “Those bastards.” His fingers were white where they gripped his stethoscope. “And the other two? Do you know where they are?”

“They’re dead,” John said, and now he covered his eyes with his hand, trying to keep the grief inside, his chest heaving as he fought back tears. “I can’t,” he gasped, not sure what he was going to say, but Carson’s hand was firm on his shoulder, as Teyla’s had been, as Ronon’s had been. John had to resist the urge to turn into a comforting embrace, because that wasn’t him, that wasn’t what he did. 

And if he did do that, he wanted Rodney, he wanted Rodney’s strong hands holding his, Rodney’s wide shoulder to lean on. “I can’t,” he said, leaning back so that Carson would let go of him. “Can we just do the exam so I can go? I need to report to Woolsey, and then I have to see Rodney.”

He risked a look at Carson’s face, seeing only sympathy there. “I don’t know what to do with… him,” John said, nodding through the curtains. “Aran. I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t you worry about that now,” Carson said soothingly. He bustled to a counter and started prepping a needle to draw blood. “There are willing hands enough here to take care of Aran for as long as needed. Teyla I’m sure has some of Torren’s spare clothes and nappies. We’ll do just fine until… Well, until you figure out what’s going on.”

John nodded, watching the familiar drawing of the blood, holding his finger to the round bandaid and bending his elbow. 

“And John,” Carson said gently. “You have plenty of friends to help you through this, all right?”

:: :: :: 

It took about an hour for Rodney to notice the whispers, and he lifted his head from his work impatiently. “What’s going on?” he demanded, and Radek blinked at him and then stared around the lab. Faces turned away and there was a flurry of studious activity. 

“Can’t be anything too dangerous,” Radek said, fiddling with the cracked crystal he kept in his pocket like a lucky charm. “No one is looking terrified.”

Five more minutes of mutters and muffled discussion and Rodney slammed down his datapad in exasperation. “It’s like working in a room full of gossipy washerwoman,” he exclaimed. “If you people don’t have enough work to keep you occupied, I’m sure I can find something. I understand there’s a bad smell coming from a console in bio engineering. Any volunteers to crawl into a duct and see if a rat has died?”

Again the sound died away and studious heads were once again bent over glowing screens.

“Rodney, you don’t think we have rats, do you?” Radek said. 

“I think we’re not going to get anything out of these monkeys until we find out what latest disaster has befallen us. Radek, go and twist someone’s arm until they tell you, okay?”

Radek pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Why me?” he complained.

“Please,” Rodney huffed. “You’re the biggest gossip in the city. You know you’re dying to go find out. So go. Shoo,” he said making little pushing motions. “And bring me back some coffee and a donut.”

“Get your own donuts,” Radek said in Czech, or at least Rodney assumed that’s what he was saying. For some reason the stargate translation circuits were pretty useless when it came to languages that shared a common root, so while Takahashi couldn’t get away with cursing him in Japanese – the translator had no problem with that – for some reason the different Romance languages remained largely untranslated to those that spoke them. 

By the time Radek reappeared at his elbow Rodney had forgotten the gossip and was only thinking of his coffee. He frowned at the sight of Radek’s empty hands. 

“Rodney,” Radek said quietly, and Rodney looked up, his eyes widening at the sombre expression on his friend’s face.

“Oh, god, is it that bad? An attack? Hive ships? Why didn’t somebody call me?”

“No, Rodney, nothing like that,” Radek said, glancing around the lab and stepping closer. “Rodney, you should go see Colonel Sheppard.”

“Sheppard?” Rodney stood quickly, grabbing up his datapad. “Is he hurt? I knew I should have gone with them this morning, they’re lost without me there, just useless.”

Radek caught at his flailing hand and squeezed it. “He’s not hurt as far as I know. But Rodney you should go find him, right now. And don’t talk to anyone else, Ok? Go see him, and let him explain.”

“Explain what? Why are you being so mysterious? You know I hate being expected to figure something out with no data. Radek?”

Radek stepped back, raising his hands. “Just listen to someone else for a change,” he said. “I’ll finish this, you go.”

Rodney protested for five more minutes, but Radek just ignored him with the ease of long practice, and finally Rodney decided he’d better just go and find Sheppard and get to the bottom of this whole drama.

This was going to have something to do with that space floozy, Larrin, Rodney thought, trotting down the hall. John always laughed off their gross flirtation, saying it was just fun and games, but Rodney suspected that the cheap space tramp would be inside John’s tight Colonel pants in a split second if given the least encouragement.

“Looks just like him, apparently,” a voice floated down the corridor. Rodney ignored it, mind still turning over possibilities of John’s dilemma, the recharging calculations he and Radek had been working on all day, the coffee he’d missed out on, and whether there were indeed any chocolate donuts left in the mess, or just the icky strawberry ones. 

“A baby?” another voice said.

“Yep. Just carried it back through the ‘gate, casual as anything. It’s in the infirmary now. Marie said it’s the spit and image of him.” Slightly British voice, Rodney thought, now recalling a British professor he’d once detested. Rodney idly wondered where she was now. “Right down to that crazy hair that sticks up all the time.”

Rodney froze in his tracks.

“So it must be genetic then,” the other voice said, laughing. “I always wondered how an Air Force Colonel got away with using that much product.”

The voices faded away as Rodney stood, still frozen, gazing blindly down at the datapad clenched in his hand. Well. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out who that conversation had been about.

:: :: :: 

The infirmary was bustling, an SGA team had returned and was undergoing the routine med check. Mud of some sort must have been involved on the mission, it was spattered and tracked down the hall from the transporter and into the infirmary. Rodney was dully glad and simultaneously amazed that SGA:1 hadn’t been assigned that planet. Sometimes he thought Sheppard picked out the most inhospitable climates just to torment him. 

Rodney stood in the doorway, wondering why his footsteps had led him here. To see Carson? To find the nurse Marie and ask her just what the hell she was doing spreading gossip like that? To see this baby with Sheppard’s hair? 

Teyla emerged from behind a curtain in a quiet corner and Rodney made a beeline for her immediately. 

“Rodney,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “What are you doing here? Have you talked to the Colonel yet?”

“Excuse me, Teyla,” Rodney said politely, and he carefully sidestepped her, pushing aside the curtain and stepping into the cubicle.

“Rodney, you really should talk to John before you –“

Rodney held up one hand as he walked on shaky legs to the makeshift crib. There was the spiky hair, as advertised, atop a flushed little face, one pudgy fist pressed against its mouth. Its eyes were closed, a faint tracery of bluish veins under the perfect, translucent skin. His eyes, Rodney thought, noting the pointed tips of tiny ears. His ears. Pain was gripping at his chest, pressing so tightly Rodney wondered if he was having a heart attack. Well, at least he was in the right place if he did.

So John had cheated on him. With that skanky space floozy of all people. Came back home joking about hot space pirates and leather bustiers, and all the time he’d… What? Been christening the Ancient warship? Was that really why he’d let the Travelers take the ship that could have been his? Because that space tramp had paid for it on her back? 

“Rodney,” Teyla said gently, laying her hand in the small of his back.

Well bully the fuck for him. Rodney wanted desperately to be angry, he really wanted to find his outraged place and explode all over the infirmary and Teyla and the proof of John’s infidelity. He wanted to scream and shout his rage out loud.

But all he felt was pain, and grief, and the loss of something he didn’t even know he’d valued until it was gone. Trust. Faith that despite how hard John found to express it, outside of the bedroom anyway, that he loved Rodney. As much as Rodney loved him.

“Rodney, this is not what it seems.”

“Don’t,” Rodney said brittlely. “I’ll hear about this from Sheppard, if you don’t mind. He doesn’t need you running interference.”

“That’s exactly what he does need,” Teyla said urgently. “Rodney, there’s a terrible story behind this, something so horrible...”

Rodney frowned as her voice broke, turning his head to look at her. She was so strong, such a powerful personality, such a dominant figure in their lives, he often forgot how petite she was. She gazed up at him, her expressive eyes weighed down with a grief Rodney hadn’t seen since her people had been swept away. 

“Teyla?”

“It’s not my story to tell, Rodney,” Teyla said, tugging him gently away from the sleeping child. “You should hear it from him.”

Rodney dithered, looking back at the crib, then looking down at Teyla’s unnaturally pale face, her hand urging him away. Hope blossomed in his chest, driving away the griping press of pain and betrayal. 

“Rodney, I can’t,” Teyla said, and Rodney made up his mind instantly.

“The hell with that,” he said. He led her away, out of the infirmary and down the hall to the quiet nook where they often sat when someone was injured, waiting for news of friends and colleagues. Too many times to recall. He pulled her down and sat opposite her, leaning forward and peering into her eyes. 

She avoided his gaze. “It’s not my place,” she began, voice firming.

“Teyla, listen. You know me, you know how bad I am with people. And John? He’s even worse. It’s a miracle the two of us even found one another, and you remember all the times we really hurt each other before we figured things out.”

Teyla looked at him doubtfully. “I remember.”

“You helped us come together then, and I’ll – we’ll – always be grateful for that. Right now I’m hurt and I’m angry and I just want to find John and punch him in his long, annoyingly attractive nose.”

“You mustn’t do that,” Teyla said swiftly.

“No, I’m beginning to see that,” Rodney said. He pointed to his head. “Genius, remember? I may suck at people but I can put two and two together – and right now the things running through my head are scaring the crap out of me. Now, is there anything John can tell me that’s worse than what I’m thinking?”

Ashen faced, Teyla nodded.

“Right,” Rodney said, firming his jaw. “Right. Then you tell me. Please. Save John going through it all over again. Please?” 

:: :: ::

John sat on the side of his bed, weary right down to his bones. He wanted to take his boots off, he wanted to crawl into his rack and not crawl out again until this pain went away. He wanted Rodney, but as soon as he saw him he was going to have to tell the horrible story all over again. Just as he had with Carson and Woolsey. See the shock in his eyes turn to horror. Endure his sympathy and outrage on his behalf. Survive his well meaning attempts at comfort.

God, he wanted Rodney.

Then Rodney was there, sitting beside him on the bed, one arm going around him, tucking him close. John leaned his head on Rodney’s wide shoulder, allowing himself just this moment of peace before he was forced once more to bare his soul.

“John,” Rodney murmured, his voice broken and soft. “I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry.”

John stiffened for just a moment, but Rodney was twisting, pulling him impossibly closer, until their legs were tangled and Rodney’s strong arms were clutching his back. Warm moisture on his neck, and John realised Rodney was crying, Rodney’s chest heaving, sobs shaking against John’s skin.

And finally, finally John could loose the tears that had been choking him for hours, and clutching Rodney close he started to weep.

:: :: ::

“I don’t even know what their names were,” he said, head pillowed on Rodney’s shoulder, one leg thrown across both of Rodney’s. His voice was rough with tears, his face still felt swollen and warm. But his heart was eased, that first crushing agony fading to a slower, quieter grief. 

“We’ll find out,” Rodney promised, kissing his forehead. “And we’ll do something. Name a star after them maybe.”

“I don’t know what to do,” John confessed. “About him.”

“Aran,” Rodney said. “What do you want to do?”

“Get a do-over on the whole day and stand Olin up.” 

“Ignorance is never really the bliss the philosophers make it out to be,” Rodney mused. “Better to know, even when it hurts like hell. Teyla says that you haven’t even held him yet.”

John thought about pulling away, but this was Rodney, he could get away with saying and doing things no one else could. That was kind of what had attracted John to him in the first place. “What’s the point?” he said instead. “It’s not like I’m going to quit the airforce and become a single dad. It’s not like I can even look at him and not remember…” He shook his head, hair rustling against the shoulder of Rodney’s jacket. “What’s the point?” he said again.

Rodney stroked his shoulder, wide chest rising and falling under John’s spread palm. “Maybe Jeanie will take him,” he said softly. “I know she and Kaleb wanted another child, but it’s just never happened for them.”

“They want their own child,” John said. “Not mi- Not someone else’s.”

Rodney shrugged. “I could ask. He’d be safe on Earth then, but not with strangers.”

“I thought about asking Teyla and Kanaan,” John confessed. “But that’s just too close. Anyway, they might want more of their own too.”

“Actually I think Teyla might be open to taking him,” Rodney mused. “But I guess I see what you mean. It is just a bit too close to home. But John.” Rodney sighed and pressed his cheek to John’s head. “He’s your son. I’m not saying turn your life into a sitcom of single dadhood, but surely there’s a middle ground. Teyla is raising Torren on Atlantis, for the most part. Is it so impossible to imagine raising Aran here too?”

John turned the thought over in his mind, trying to picture life as a parent. Here on Atlantis, back on Earth. He just couldn’t see it, couldn’t form an image of himself in that role. “I can’t,” he said again. That seemed to be the mantra of his day. “I can’t think about this right now. I just need to sleep, okay?”

Rodney was silent, and John reluctantly pushed himself up on one elbow to look down into his face. “What?” 

“You’ve spent your adult life protecting people,” Rodney began slowly, thoughtfully. “I know you always say you just wanted to fly, and maybe that’s all it was at first. But somewhere along the way you fell into this role. Like it’s your job to protect everyone, no matter what the cost to you.”

John frowned down into Rodney’s thoughtful face. “I’m military. It’s part of the gig.”

“Sure,” Rodney agreed. “But for you it’s become this way of life. I know – I’ve seen – how every loss chips away at you. How you blame yourself for every life you couldn’t protect.” Rodney cupped John’s face with one broad hand. “I know that’s what’s hitting you hardest now. Not what Larrin did to you, I’m guessing processing that horror show is on the back burner. We’ll deal with that later.”

John’s little spurt of irritation at Rodney’s assessment of his character as some kind of martyr faded. _We_ will deal with it, he’d said. 

“It’s the two nameless little ones that are gutting you now,” Rodney said, stroking John’s cheek gently with his thumb. “Of course it is. Because you couldn’t protect them. Because you never even got the chance to protect them.”

“Rodney,” John protested brokenly. “I can’t.”

“I know,” Rodney said, his expressive mouth turning down. “I know you don’t want to do this. Believe me, I’d like nothing more than to just wrap you up and keep you safe from all this. But, John.” He sighed, and reluctantly pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard. “Those poor little souls are gone, they were gone long before you knew they existed. You can’t do anything about them.”

John pushed himself upright, crossing his legs and facing Rodney across the bed. “You’re talking about Aran.”

“I’m saying you couldn’t help the others, but Aran is right here, right now.”

“He’s safe enough,” John said defensively.

“He’s lost his mum,” Rodney said sadly. “Been taken from the only home he’s known. He’s with a bunch of strangers in a strange place. I know he’s just a baby, and life must be pretty weird anyway at that age, but John.” Rodney reached out and took his hand, fingers warm as they squeezed his. “You’re his dad. He needs you.”

“He doesn’t know me. I’m a stranger too.” John’s chest felt tight.

“You’re his dad,” Rodney repeated. “That means you have to put aside what you’re feeling right now and think about him. I don’t think you’ll be able to forgive yourself later, if you put him through any more right now than he’s already been through.”

“You think I should go see him?” John said, just the thought sending panic skittering through his veins.

“I think he’s probably pretty scared,” Rodney said, holding both John’s hands in his now. “And no matter what you decide to do – what we decide to do,” he amended, squeezing John’s hands. “Right now I think you need to go to him. For your own sake as much as his.”

John looked own at their linked hands for a moment before pulling his hands free. “Damn it, Rodney,” he complained. “You’re right and I hate that you’re right.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “I just don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to be feeling, you know? I’m angry at Larrin – and you’re right about that, I can’t let myself think about it now. I literally haven’t the time or the energy for the sheer rage I feel at what she did to me.”

“It wasn’t just her though,” Rodney said bitterly. “No matter what that Traveler woman told you. Quite a few of them had to know what she’d done.”

“Yeah,” John acknowledged. “So Hulk-smash rage at that is going to have to wait. Grief over two little babies.” He broke off, shook his head. “That’s going to have to wait. But all that leaves me with is an 18 month old kid with my DNA, and what do I do with that? I’m 42 years old.”

“Closer to 43,” Rodney interjected.

John smirked at him. “Yeah, thanks for the reminder. Either way, that’s too old to become a parent.”

“So put all that on the back burner right now as well,” Rodney advised. “Treat this like a mission gone sideways. You deal with what’s in front of you, and worry about the rest of the shit as it crops up.”

John fixed a narrow eyed glare on him. “When did you become the sensible one in this relationship anyway?”

Rodney shrugged. “We can take it in turns. Next time I lose my mind over something you can talk me down.”

“Deal,” John promised. He smiled tentatively. “Hey, Rodney? Thanks. For the, you know. Shoulder to cry on.”

Rodney gave him his lop sided smile. “Any time. You want me to go to the infirmary with you?”

“Nah,” John said, although part of him kind of did. “I think I’ve bared my soul enough for one day. I’ll just look in and see him, I’m sure he’s fine.” Before he left he couldn’t resist taking Rodney’s face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his lips. “Really. Thanks.”

:: :: ::

The infirmary was dim and quiet, Dr Keller must have drawn the night shift this month, she was sitting in front of a monitor typing away industriously. She nodded to him as he wandered in, and behind the partially drawn curtains in the corner John saw a nurse sitting, rocking a cradle and humming softly under her breath. Instead of the pale light of a Lantean wall sconce, someone had plugged in a small shaded lamp with a thin patterned cloth draped on one side. It gave the sterile little cubicle a softer look.

The nurse stood up as he pushed the curtain cautiously aside, and now John could hear small sobs from the baby in the crib. Instantly he wished he hadn’t come and fought the urge to back out, but the nurse was already tucking her datapad under her arm, her round face creasing in a smile.

“I just put him down again,” she said softly. “Hoping he’d sleep. But he’s a stubborn little guy, he just won’t close his eyes.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” she said reassuringly. “His health check went very well. Dr Beckett will have a word with you tomorrow about an immunisation schedule and so on, but right now I think Aran is just a bit scared and confused.” She stepped closer to John. “He’s calling for someone called Amma. I’m assuming it means mother, but perhaps it’s the name of someone who was taking care of him?”

John shook his head. “I have no idea,” he said, once again swamped by how little he knew about his own son, the life he’d been living, even how much time his mother had spent with him as captain of a Traveler ship. 

“Well, maybe you’ll have better luck settling him,” the nurse said again. “Just call me if you need anything.”

Before he could protest that he didn’t know enough about this to know what he didn’t know, she was gone and the curtain was settling back into place behind her. With a feeling akin to dread John turned back to the crib and looked at his son.

Aran was still grizzling a little, laying back against soft linen cloth that John recognised was from Teyla and Kanaan’s quarters. His thick dark hair was a little damp with sweat at his brow, and John couldn’t resist a rueful chuckle at the familiar, stubborn spike of soft hair at the baby’s crown. Next to Aran lay a little rag doll, a smiling face sewn in black woollen thread, it’s body wrapped in a bright blue sash

Teyla had probably been responsible for all this, John realised. She’d thought of everything she could to make John’s son comfortable, while John himself had been running away from his problems like a complete coward. Crap, he thought. Rodney really had been right. How much more guilty would he have felt if he’d let this go on any longer?

“Hey, buddy,” John said softly, leaning over and stroking one finger over a flushed cheek. “Having a bad night? I know how you feel. I was pretty much planning on crying myself to sleep tonight as well.” 

Aran blinked and rubbed at his damp eyes with plump fists. “Amma,” he said on a hiccuping sob. “Amma.”

John’s heart twisted in his chest with guilt and grief. “I know, buddy,” he murmured. “I know.” Infinitely glad he’d had Torren to practice on the last few years, he slid one hand under the baby’s head and the other under his butt, and lifted him. Aran just blinked up at him as his father awkwardly cradled him against his chest and held him for the first time. 

“I’m so sorry.” John sat down on the nurses chair, shifting his bundle carefully until Aran’s tousled head rested on his shoulder. The child sighed and snuffled into the soft fabric of his father’s t-shirt. “I’m sorry about a lot of things. Sorry you lost your mom. Sorry I kind of abandoned you first chance I got.” John huffed another wry chuckle. “Sorry you inherited my hair.” 

Aran snuffled against him, grasping small handfuls of fabric. Giving in to the impulse John nuzzled that unruly hair, inhaling a fragrance of unfamiliar soap. 

“Mostly I’m sorry you’ve been landed with a total fuck-up for a father.”

Aran’s breath evened out, and John patted and stroked his narrow back gently, the soft fabric of one of Torren’s little gowns smooth under his fingers. 

“I’m not too bad at this whole Colonel thing,” John murmured as he rocked his son. “And I do a pretty good job of fooling people that I’m an okay military commander. But when it comes to fatherhood, I know squat. My own dad…” John heaved a humourless chuckle. “Well, let’s just say, not a great example. You know what they say though, about having a crappy father. If you do the opposite of everything he did, you’ll be okay.”

Aran was sleeping deeply now, but John didn’t want to disturb him by laying him back in the cot. Besides, it was kind of nice, the warm weight against his heart. The tiny puffs of breath on his throat. 

“That means I won’t ever tell you you’re stupid, or a failure, or a disappointment.” John murmured, and then frowned, hearing that put into words for the first time in his life. “Hmm, maybe that means I should stop describing myself as a fuck up too,” he said, a little surprised. “Because now I think about it, that’s my father talking, not me. I’m not perfect, that’s for sure. But I’m not really a fuck up. I’m a good pilot, I can fly anything. And I have an awesome team, more like a family really. I do a pretty good job as military commander. We’re still here anyway, and there were times I didn’t think we would be.”

John closed his eyes and laid his cheek on Aran’s soft hair. “And I have Rodney. That was unexpected. He kind of snuck up on me, you know? Team mate, then friend, then best friend. Then, well, boyfriend I guess, since you’re way too young to hear about the sex thing.” He chuckled, stifling a yawn. “But now he’s… he’s everything. That’s the unexpected part. Never thought I could love anyone as much as that.” He closed his eyes and drifted for a few minutes, the quiet sounds of the infirmary nightshift fading away.

“Colonel,” someone said softly, and John blinked and straightened, clutching his son to his chest. 

“Just resting my eyes,” he said automatically.

The nurse with the chubby cheeks and cheerful smile was back, and so were two corpsmen carrying a camp bed. 

“Right there,” the nurse said, and the two men laid the cot along the wall and nodded respectfully at John before leaving, carefully averting their eyes from the sleeping child in his arms. “I thought you might want to keep Aran company,” the nurse said, snapping out a sheet and letting it fall on the rough cot fabric. Next she laid out a blanket, turned it down and popped a small pillow at the head. 

“Thanks,” John said, standing and carefully stretching, suppressing a low groan as his knees and back creaked. Old age was a bitch. “I don’t know your name,” he said, as he carefully laid Aran back in the makeshift crib, holding his breath for a moment as the infant snuffled and then relaxed into sleep again.

“Ming,” the nurse said, taking his elbow and leading him to the cot. 

“Thanks, Ming.” John sat and finally started loosening his boot laces. “I’ll just doze for a few minutes until I know he’s fine.”

“You stay as long as you like,” Ming said quietly, dimming the draped lamp a little more, then disappearing through the curtains.

:: :: :: 

There was no natural light in the infirmary, but by John’s watch it was barely dawn when he opened his eyes to see Aran standing up in the crib, holding onto the sides and peering out at him. “Mm mm mm,” he said, smacking his lips. “Hungy.”

“Yeah, I could eat too, buddy,” John agreed, stretching and sitting up on the side of the camp bed. 

“Amma?” Aran queried.

“Nope, just… me,” John said. “Uh, Daddy, I guess.”

Aran just tilted his head and frowned at him. 

“We’ll figure it out,” John promised. “Now let’s get you sorted.” Diaper changes were old hat to John these days, or at least something he managed to get roped into doing once or twice a week by Teyla. It helped that these were Athosian diapers, with neat little strings that tied up tightly around narrow hips. 

Aran laid quietly back while his father dealt with the wet diaper, then reached out his hands in a universal gesture to be picked up. “Mm mm mm,” he said again.

“See? We’re communicating already,” John said, lifting him up and propping him on his own narrow hip. “Let’s see if anyone around here has something for us to eat.”

The infirmary was deserted, even the night nurses had vanished off somewhere, so John decided he could risk the mess hall to feed the growingly restless kid in his arms. Without even taking the time to put on his boots, he quickly found the nearest washroom, performed his own necessary morning ablution – took a piss – then washed his hands, one eye on his son.

Aran seemed happy to be on his own two feet for a change, and he toddled easily around the pristine washroom, dropping back onto his diapered butt to pat the tiled pattern on the floor.

“You’re pretty good at that walking caper,” John observed. “Want to walk to the mess hall? Get some breakfast, Aran?”

At his name the boy looked up.

“Mm mm mm?” John said, and Aran smiled widely and clambered to his feet. 

Stooping a little to hold his hand, John let Aran walk down the empty hallway to the nearest transporter, lifting him back up only to touch the map and transport them to the mess hall. Aran squirmed in his arms unhappily. 

“Down,” he demanded. “Walk.”

“As you command,” John said, popping him back on his feet, steadying him for a moment with one hand behind his back, and letting little bare feet lead the way into the mess.

The mess was half full of early risers, and they all turned and stared as Sheppard made his way to the servery, conversation dying away.

“Colonel Sheppard,” one of the corpsmen greeted him. He glanced down at Aran, who was once again planted on his diaper clad butt. “Ms Emmagan said you’d be needing some more of the menu we keep on hand for Torren. If you’d like to take a seat, we’ll bring it out to you. And your usual breakfast for yourself, sir?”

Sheppard scooped up his son and smiled his thanks. “Appreciate it,” he said. He chose a table by the windows rather than out on the balcony, not even wanting to consider a toddler and balconies at this time of the morning. Plenty of time to wonder about child proofing Atlantis later.

“There you are.” John looked up at his approaching team as Rodney called out. “We stopped by the infirmary but you were gone.”

“Brought your boots,” Ronon said shortly.

“Thanks.” John handed Aran into Teyla’s willing arms and started to pull on his socks and boots. “You guys are up early.”

“We barely slept,” Rodney said, and then stared as a corpsmen carried a tray of plates and cutlery to the table. “Since when did we rate table service?” he wondered, snitching a piece of bacon from Sheppard’s plate as he slid it over.

“Get your own,” John growled. “What do you mean you barely slept?”

“Rodney called us last night after you went to Aran,” Teyla said, calmly spooning food into Aran’s eager mouth. “We put our heads together and started collecting things you’ll need to take care of Aran until you decide what to do.”

John turned to his own meal, batting Rodney’s hand away as it once more approached his bacon. “What things?”

“Well, let’s see. A crib, a playpen, clothes, toys, blankets, no sharp corners, baby proof shelving.” Rodney listed off the items on his fingers. “We even found you better quarters, closer to mine and Teyla’s in case you need help.”

“I like my quarters,” John protested.

“Don’t worry, we didn’t rent it out while you were gone,” Rodney said waspishly. “You’re just going to need more space until…”

“Until I decide what I’m going to do,” John finished. “I’m no closer to doing that by the way.”

“What’s the hurry?” Ronon said shortly. “Probably not the best time to make permanent decisions anyway, is it?”

“Ronon has a point,” Teyla said, wiping Aran’s mouth gently. “Rodney, pass me an apple slice.” She presented Aran with the slice and he gripped it, surveyed it dubiously for a moment, then stuffed one end in his mouth and started chewing. “I wonder if he’s had much fresh fruit growing up in a Traveler ship,” she mused.

John felt another surge of rage at the thought of his son living in a rickety old ship and eating god knows what. He clenched his jaw, pushing his own plate away, appetite gone. Ronon pounced on it and made short work of the leftovers.

“I guess you have a good point,” John said. “About not making permanent decisions right now. I’m still so..”

“Angry,” Rodney finished. “Yeah, we all are. I’m getting food, you guys want food?”

“I’ll help him,” Ronon said around the last mouthful of John’s breakfast. 

“Just tea and fruit for me,” Teyla reminded him, and Ronon patted her shoulder as he raced Rodney to the servery. “Here.” Teyla passed Aran back to John, and handed the toddler another slice of apple, deftly wiping the tattered remains of the last slice from his pudgy hand.

“Thanks,” John said. He caught her gaze. “I mean it, thanks. I didn’t get a chance yesterday to tell you… I honest to god don’t know how I’d have coped with Olin yesterday without you. I think I might have just killed the lot of them.”

“I doubt you would have gone that far,” Teyla said serenely. “But I’m glad I was there to help.”

“And thanks for, you know, all the organising you’ve done,” John said, including both Rodney and Ronon as they sat back down at the table with laden plates. 

“You haven’t seen it yet,” Ronon pointed out. 

“I appreciate it anyway.” John filched a piece of bacon from Rodney’s plate and smirked at his squawk of outrage.

:: :: ::

“This is actually pretty cool,” John said, setting Aran down on the floor in his new quarters. The toddler made a beeline for a pile of coloured objects stacked in a wicker basket by the wall. There were a few stuffed toys, a coloured ball, and what looked like a drum with a stretched skin top and a padded drumstick dangling from a rawhide string. Aran immediately figured out its use and started banging away at the taut surface.

“Oh, lovely,” Rodney said sourly. “Remind me to punch Lorne in the neck for his contribution to the toy box.” 

“Lorne?” John sat down on the edge of the bed – a much wider and longer bed than his own – and idly picked up a pile of tiny items of clothing. 

“We knocked on a few doors,” Rodney confessed. “Looking for donations. The clothes are Torren’s, Aran is a bit smaller so they’re mostly stuff he’s grown out of.”

“I’ll let you know who donated the rest,” Teyla promised. “So you can thank them.”

Ronon was sitting cross legged by Aran, shaking a stuffed Invader Zim and letting the boy grab at it. The drum was forgotten as the two played a gentle game of tug of war. 

“Maybe you could bring Torren over to play with him sometime?” John suggested, as Aran threw his head back and laughed. 

“I’m sure Torren would enjoy that very much,” Teyla said, watching Ronon and the baby play with a small smile. “I’m not sure Aran would however, as Torren’s current method of playing with children his own age involves trying to poke the other child’s eye out.”

“He’s a warrior in training,” Ronon said proudly, giving up the tug of war and letting Aran chew happily on Zim’s stuffed head. 

“He’s a spoiled demon child,” Teyla corrected. “But I’m sure that’s just a phase he’s going through. Dr Beckett tells me Aran should have his shots before he interacts with Torren though.”

“Ouch,” Rodney said ruefully. 

“Was thinking about the Travelers,” Ronon said, letting Aran crawl up into his lap and lean against his chest. One big hand gently patted the baby on his narrow back. “What if they do this again? To other Lanteans with the gene?”

John grimaced. “I thought about that. I was thinking of asking Beckett to give me a vasectomy.”

“Ouch again,” Rodney said.

Ronon narrowed his eyes the way he always did when they made comments he didn’t understand. “A what?”

Rodney made a scissor motion with two fingers and pointed down at his groin.

Ronon instantly put his free hand over his groin and pulled Aran closer to him. “The hell? Sheppard, you’ll let Carson cut off your manhood?” He glared at Rodney. “McKay, you’re all right with that?”

“Nobody’s cutting off anyone’s manhood,” John said patiently. “Rodney, don’t give Ronon heart palpitations , okay?”

“What?” Rodney said defensively. “Do they or do they not, perform surgery down there? It’s not my fault Ronon’s mind goes instantly to castration.”

“You know very well you gave him that impression,” Teyla interjected.

“Yeah,” Ronon smirked. “It’s McKay’s fault.”

“Oh, please,” McKay snapped. “As if any man would get castrated as a form of birth control.”

“Can we not keep using words like that, please,” John said loudly, glaring at them all. “Jeez, five years of you guys bickering, no wonder I’m not looking forward to being a father at my age. It’s been like dealing with three perpetual teenagers every time you get together.”

Teyla eyed him and John held up his hand defensively. “All right, two teenagers and Teyla.”

She sniffed and crossed her arms. “As it happens I know what a vasectomy is,” she said a little smugly. “Dr Beckett talked to my people about it when he discussed methods of birth control.”

Ronon snickered. “Bet he didn’t get any takers.”

“No,” Teyla admitted ruefully. “While the idea of being able to control contraception more effectively was well received, the idea of ending all possibility is a difficult concept for an Athosian male. I would guess difficult across many worlds and cultures in this galaxy.”

“Not Just this galaxy,” Rodney said.

“So that’s what a vaz thing is? How do they do that without...” He mimed Rodney’s scissor motions and pointed at Sheppard’s groin.

Now John had to resist the urge to cross his legs. “It’s a simple surgical procedure that closes off the sperm-carrying tubes to prevent sperm from getting into the seminal fluid,” John explained. “So the gun still fires, it’s just shooting blanks.”

Rodney and Teyla both rolled their eyes at the analogy but Ronon nodded. “Makes sense. I wouldn’t want that though. Me and Amelia are talking about getting married and having babies. She’s from a big family and she wants a lot.”

Ronon grinned widely as everyone exclaimed, accepting Teyla’s congratulatory kiss and handing a dozing Aran up into her arms. He stood and let Rodney and John shake his hands, still smiling. “She wants to tell her family before we actually do the whole Earth thing with rings. But I told her I’d have to tell my team.”

“Wow,” John said, as Teyla carefully laid Aran in his fur lined crib. “I guess we’re all getting a start on that next generation.”

“We will have to find someone willing to bear you a child, Rodney,” Teyla said.

Rodney blinked in surprise. “Well, I do feel it’s important to pass my genes on to the next generation,” he admitted, then ducked as a cushion, a pillow and a stuffed Invader Zim were flung at him from various points in the room. “Hey!”

:: :: :: 

The minute everyone left Aran started crying. “Hey, don’t blame me,” John said, lifting him out of the crib and depositing him back in front of the toy box. “You’re the one who dozed off.” Aran glared at him crossly for a moment, then reached out and tugged at the side of the basket, pulling himself to his feet.

“Stretching your legs?” John said, grateful someone else had thought of child proofing the room. He’d never had a balcony, so he wouldn’t miss one, but he wondered how he was going to manage the rest of Atlantis as Aran pressed his face against the floor to ceiling window and peered fearlessly out at the expanse of city and blue water beyond it.

Aran patted the glass, smearing his face print a little, then started toddling around the rest of the room on surprisingly steady legs. John pulled his laptop off the side table, stretched his own long legs out on the floor, leaned back against the bed and started sorting through his emails.

One from Woolsey informing him he was on leave for the foreseeable future, and requesting a meeting the next morning. John shot off an email confirming a time, and then as an after thought sent one to Teyla requesting her baby sitting services while he met with the boss.

Sheppard was aware he was going to have to figure a few things out pretty quickly, or risk taking advantage of his friends just to do his job.

Aran bent over, grabbed a knee and carefully climbed over his father’s thigh until he was facing him. He patted John on the chest with sticky hands. “Amma?” 

John caught his narrow hips and steadied him, peering into hazel eyes, the exact colour and shape of his own. Had Aran inherited anything from his mother at all? John didn’t think it made him a bad person to hope he hadn’t. “No, not Amma,” John corrected. “Dada. Can you say Dada, Aran? Da da.”

Aran frowned at him. “Amma,” he said stubbornly, and boy, that frown was familiar too. Sheppard had seen it in the mirror a few times.

“Dada,” John said again, then pressed a kiss to Aran’s round cheek. “Dada.”

Aran squealed with laughter, batting at his father’s face with tiny flailing hands. “No, no, no,” Aran said between guffaws. Oh, lord, he’d inherited his father’s laugh as well.

“Yes, yes, yes,” John said, lifting him up and swooping into a flushed neck, depositing a kiss and then a raspberry. “Dadada.”

“No no,” Aran kicked and squirmed. “Dada! Dada!”

Surprised, John stopped his assault and peered into laughing eyes. “Dada,” Aran said again, then leaned forward and kissed him on the nose, managing to pretty much smash his whole face to John’s on the attempt.

“You sneak,” John said, and he wrestled for a minute longer, until Aran lay winded against his shoulder. 

“Dadadada,” The baby murmured, once more slipping into the sudden, easy sleep of a toddler.

“Yeah,” John said, holding him close.

:: :: ::

Things weren’t quite so sanguine by that evening. Despite falling asleep in both Ronon’s and his arms, Aran had woken with a start every time John had tried to lay him down. So, short naps, some more playtime and a few meals later, Aran was cranky and tired and absolutely refusing to go to sleep in his crib.

“What?” John said in exasperation. “I cannot spend the rest of your life carrying you around eight hours a night. It’s just not practical.” In desperation he kicked his boots off and laid down on his own bed with Aran next to him. The baby stopped crying, but only so he could curiously climb all over his father and explore the Ancient headboard, every thread in the bedspread, and the pattern on the pillow case.

“Sleep,” John ordered, laying him back down again. Aran popped up like a Jack-in-the-Box. “No,” he returned, equally as firmly.

The door chime rang but father and son didn’t break their mutual death glare. The door swept open.

“Am I disturbing something?” Rodney said, bouncing into the room. John turned his death glare on his lover. How dare Rodney work all day after a sleepless night and still bounce, while John had done nothing but take care of a baby all day and feel wrung out and exhausted.

“Ah, hmm,” Rodney said, stopping in his tracks. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Unless you’ve brought a bottle of baby morphine, don’t bother staying,” John growled.

Rodney assumed a sympathetic demeanour. “Aw, trouble sleeping?” he cooed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. John suddenly realised how wide it was compared to the bed in his old apartment, and he narrowed his eyes. 

“If you’re looking to christen the big bed,” he said dangerously. “You’re out of luck. The way things are going you’re gonna be out of luck until this kid is twenty one and married himself.” 

Rodney lifted a brow. “That long, huh?” he said. 

“Don’t patronise me,” John said through gritted teeth. “He’s exhausted, but will he sleep? No, not unless I’m carrying him.”

“Hey, just like when Torren was little.”

“Yeah, just like that. Only I’m not Teyla, and I’m not carrying him around Atlantis all night.” Although right now John thought he might be willing to try just about anything if he could catch a few hours sleep himself. John gazed at Rodney thoughtfully, wondering if he could get him to babysit while he went back to his old room and caught a nap.

“Hmm,” Rodney said again. “He fell asleep against Ronon this morning.”

“And woke up the minute I laid him down.”

“And you say he’ll sleep in your arms?”

“Doze off, anyway.” John said, sidling closer. “Hey, Rodney?”

Rodney leapt to his feet. “I have an idea,” he said, backing out of the room. “Give me five minutes, I’ll be back.” And then he was gone.

“Dammit,” John said, and then Aran started crying again. “Dammit!”

:: :: ::

It was more like 45 minutes, but Rodney was back at his door and rushing straight over to the crib. He was carrying a small machine and a couple of leads, which he clipped onto side slats of the metal crib.

John frowned as he flicked a switch and the little machine hummed to life with a gentle glow. The crib seemed to vibrate, just slightly. “Look, I want him asleep, not electrocuted,” John said, but Rodney was already rushing to the chest of drawers. 

“Did I ever tell you I was born two weeks after my mother’s due date?” 

John blinked at the apparent non sequitur. “What?”

Rodney was pulling a sheet from the bottom drawer and shaking it out. “Yeah. My mum said I was so comfortable in the womb that I didn’t want to leave, so they had to induce her. Coax me out.”

“While I find the stories of your mother’s pregnancy fascinating, Rodney,” John drawled, frowning as Rodney tied one corner of the sheet to the window frame, and the other to a wall sconce. “Is this really the time for a stroll down memory lane? And what are you doing?”

Rodney wheeled the crib over – humming machine and all - and positioned it under the draped sheet. “See, mum figured out – after a few sleepless weeks of letting me cry myself into exhaustion – that I just liked feeling safe and cosy.” Rodney stepped back, surveying his handiwork. “Like in a womb. Put Aran down.”

“He’ll just start crying,” John said, but he laid the fretful toddler into the cosy nest hopefully and held his breath as Rodney arranged the draped sheet into a kind of fort above the crib. 

Aran grizzled a few moments more, then snuffled into his pillow, little fist still pressed to his lips. 

“Aran was raised on a ship in space,” Rodney murmured as swollen eyelids flickered and then seemed to relax into sleep. “In what was probably pretty close quarters. I figured yours and Ronon’s heartbeat might be vibration enough for him to sleep to, but the minute you put him down…”

John looked from the humming little generator to the neat little bedsheet fort. “He missed the sound and vibrations he’s known all his life. Rodney, you’re a genius.”

“It’s been said.” Rodney smirked, then squawked as John grabbed him and kissed him hard on the lips. “Yes, well,” he said, his cheeks red. “Pure self interest, obviously. After all, I did make sure you got an apartment with a bigger bed.”

John dropped back onto the bed, pulling Rodney with him. “Like I said,” he murmured. “A genius.” 

Rodney let himself be kissed for a minute, then drew back when John slid a hand under his shirt and smoothed it up his spine. “Uh, seriously though,” he gasped. “I’m not sure I can do that while…” He nodded over at the draped crib. 

John nuzzled his neck. “I know,” he sighed. 

“Maybe some kind of screen?” Rodney said, humming pleasurably as John pressed a gentle, suckling kiss on his throat. “I’ll get on it tomorrow.”

John pulled back, smiling into dazed blue eyes. “Stay with me though?” he invited. “Just for a little while?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rodney said, visibly making the effort to compose himself. “I can do that.”

:: :: :: 

They lay back on the big bed, watching through the giant windows as the moons of New Lantea rose over the ocean. 

“This is not what you signed up for,” John said.

“You either.”

“True. But I don’t want… I don’t want… You know. Us. To lose anything. You know.”

“Yes, I do know,” Rodney said. “I’m fluent in our unspoken manly bond.”

John rolled his eyes, which was admittedly rather wasted since his head was still on Rodney’s shoulder, but which he felt was necessary anyway. 

“Anyway,” Rodney said, a bit less confidently now. “You’re not going to lose anything. I’m here, aren’t I? Not getting laid because there’s a toddler asleep three feet away, and yet still not going anywhere?”

“Yeah, greater love hath no man.”

“Hah, you said the L word,” Rodney crowed. “I win.”

“I’m serious,” John persisted. “I have a lot of stuff to sort out, I know that. But it matters, what you think. What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Rodney mused. “What do I think? Ok, well, since you asked. I think you should keep your son, John.”

John couldn’t help his gasp of surprise. Rodney chuckled.

“What? You weren’t expecting anything so blunt?”

Numbly John shook his head. “I really wasn’t.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention. I know you, John Sheppard. I know you’re scared you’re going to screw this up. Scared you’re going to screw him up.” Rodney nodded at the sleeping toddler. “But I also know you will never forgive yourself if you walk away from your son. Your little boy.”

John felt tears prickle behind his eyes. “I don’t know how to be a father,” he said hoarsely.

Rodney shrugged. “Me either. But you know, in my opinion the definition of a crappy father is one who walks away from his kid when he doesn’t have to. And you don’t have to. If you leave Aran it will be because you want to, and that’s not the John Sheppard I know and love.” 

John sniffed a watery chuckle. “You said you love me,” he taunted, voice still rough. 

“Yeah, I guess you win,” Rodney said, tugging him close and wrapping strong arms around him. 

:: :: ::

Woolsey rose to greet him and gestured to a spare seat in front of his desk. “Colonel. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” John said, because really, how did you answer a question that big? “Still, you know. Coming to terms.”

“I imagine so,” Woolsey said in that diplomatic way he had. “And Aran, is it? How’s he settling down?”

“Well, like Rodney said, life is probably pretty weird anyway when you’re a year and a half old. The biggest problem was getting him to sleep after being raised on a starship, with that constant background noise and vibration. Rodney rigged something up.”

And oops, but that was mentioning Rodney twice in one answer, and while John didn’t think Woolsey suspected his military commander and chief science officer had been involved in a sexual relationship for the last few years, or that Woolsey would even care if he did know, there wasn’t any point pushing his luck on that score right now.

“And Teyla is baby sitting and Ronon helped fix up new quarters for us. Aran and me. So, you know. Team,” he finished lamely. 

“It’s good to have friends to rally around you in tough times,” Woolsey agreed. He steepled his hands on his blotter and surveyed Sheppard seriously. “I want to ask your advice on the Traveler situation. I’ll be blunt, Colonel. I just can’t see how we can trust them as close allies any more.”

“Well Olin, the Traveler co-captain who brought Aran to me, she said that Larrin acted largely alone.”

“But is that plausible?” Woolsey said doubtfully. “I was going over the report from your first meeting with the Travelers. They deliberately staked out space gates, waited for a gene carrier, ambushed you, rendered you unconscious and now we know they stole, uh, DNA material from you. By the time you woke up there was only one ship and three Travelers, which suggests to me that this was a well planned and co-ordinated attack designed to achieve exactly what they did achieve. A child with the Ancient gene.”

Three children, John thought, but neither he nor Woolsey went there.

“Which begs the question, why did they give him up? You wouldn’t even have known he existed if this Olin hadn’t contacted you.”

John had spent half the last two nights sleepless over that very fact. “We don’t know enough about their culture to know what a death bed promise means to them. But for Olin I think she’d have been thrilled if I’d just walked away without Aran. I really got the sense she was very reluctantly keeping her word to her dying friend.”

Woolsey pondered this for a moment, then pulled out a sheet of paper from the binder in front of him. “I wasn’t sure about mentioning this, but we received a message through the ‘gate this morning, from a Traveler calling himself Captain Presh. He wants a face to face meeting, and he requested you personally.”

“Did he?” John drawled.

“Which leads me full circle. I’m not sure what to do about our alliance with the Travelers. While it’s true we have been of mutual use to each other before, there’s no denying the fact that half the teams we send off world have the Ancient gene, either naturally or as a result of gene therapy. We cannot risk them being attacked the same way you were, for the same motives.”

John nodded, this mirrored his own thoughts. “It’s not just the Travelers though,” he said thoughtfully. “We don’t know who they’ve talked to, how many people out there know about the gene and it’s importance when accessing Ancient equipment. So even if we severely limit our alliance with the Travelers, how do we protect our people out there? Since the threat of the Wraith has waned, we’ve got all these new players emerging, looking to take a dominant position in the galaxy. All that Ancient tech laying around has to be pretty tempting to them.” 

“Perhaps we can talk to Beckett and Keller about some form of male birth control?” Woolsey suggested. “I know some female expedition members and military personnel are using contraception implants, perhaps he has some suggestions for a similar implant for males?”

“As long as it’s safe and reversible,” John agreed, thinking that sounded better than surgery any day of the week. He suppressed a smirk at the remembrance of Ronon’s outraged face at the thought of getting his manhood removed.

“At any rate, what’s your position on meeting with this Captain Presh?” Woolsey asked. “I will fully understand if you’d rather send another team to hear what they have to say.”

“No,” John said quickly. There was no way he was going to ask another team to take his place on any mission if he didn’t have to. “I’ll meet him, but I choose the venue, and I want a couple of cloaked jumpers and a squad of marines backing me up. I don’t trust these guys an inch any more.”

“Which bodes ill for our continued alliance,” Woolsey said, closing his binder. “Put a plan together and let me know, I’ll communicate your instructions to Captain Presh, then it will be up to him if he decides he still wants to meet.”

:: :: ::

Sheppard chose a long abandoned world they’d used now and then as an alpha site for the meeting. The stargate was on the top of a small hill, with excellent defensive capabilities and no nearby cover for a possible ambushing force. Jumpers could navigate the area easily, and if necessary there were tumbled old stone ruins that would provide cover and another easily defensible fall back position less than a kilometre away. 

He arrived early, positioning the two cloaked jumpers a hundred metres on either side of the ‘gate, each packed with half a dozen heavily armed marines.

It was possible he still had some anger issues, John thought.

Stackhouse radioed to tell him that a wormhole was established a short time before the arranged meeting and that six Travelers had come through. They were armed, but not heavily. 

“Copy that,” Sheppard said into his radio. “Maintain your position and keep this channel open. They’re here,” he said to his team. Ronon and Teyla leaned against one of the sturdier old stone walls, while Rodney stayed sitting on a broken pylon, eyes on his scanner. 

John checked his life signs detector, confirming that no one else had arrived at the spot earlier than them. Only the six life signs heading towards him were displayed, and he suppressed an absurd disappointment. Part of him had been hoping the Travelers would try something, give him an excuse for violence.

Yes, he definitely had a few anger issues.

Captain Presh was a surprise. Sheppard had no idea why he’d been expecting an older man, he’d actually never met a Traveler who appeared to be any older than himself. But Presh was probably not much past thirty, with a smooth unlined face and a sharp nose. Like all his people he was pale, his skin lightly freckled and his short hair was burnished like copper. 

“I am Captain Presh of the Traveler vessel Adari,” he said bowing slightly from the waist. “I am pleased to meet you, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard,” he greeted.

“It’s just colonel now,” Ronon growled.

John nodded acknowledgment at his team mate, although he probably wouldn’t have bothered correcting the man himself. Behind Presh stood three armed men and two women, and here John saw a few grey hairs and wrinkles for the first time. Were they Captains too? Content to hang back and let the younger man do all the talking?

“Ah, you have been promoted,” Presh said, smiling politely. “Congratulations.”

“Yeah, thanks, we were all thrilled,” Sheppard said. “You wanted to see me?”

Presh’s smile turned tight. “Of course, no need for formality between allies,” he said smoothly. “I have been informed of an… unfortunate situation that has developed between our two peoples. Of course neither myself or the Ruling Council had any knowledge of this situation until very recently.”

“Situation?” Sheppard drawled. He knew he was being rude but found he couldn’t give a damn. He hated politics and smooth talking politicians at the best of times, and this was pretty damn far from the best of times. 

“It was brought to my attention that six days ago Co-Captain Olin, of the Traveler ship Solange, contacted Atlantis without authorisation. That you in fact met with her several days later.”

“That’s true,” Sheppard confirmed. “Is there a problem?”

“Olin exceeded her rights by going behind the backs of the council to make contact with an ally. She is also accused of stealing a child from its caregiver without any authorisation.”

Sheppard tightened his grasp on his P-90, hackles rising on his neck at the cold recitation of the facts. “Its caregiver,” he repeated softly. He was dimly aware of Rodney standing up and stepping to his side. 

Presh bowed his head again. “Just so,” he said. 

“Olin told me Larrin was dead,” Sheppard said shortly.

“Tragically Captain Larrin of the Iambis was killed after an... incident on board her ship. At the time of her death the child was being cared for by one of her crew. Of course eventually suitable arrangements would have been made to place him with one of her relatives.”

“He’s my son,” Sheppard said. “He’s with his relative. So.” He shrugged carelessly. “Was that all?”

“No, that is not all. Olin had no right to take the child,” Presh said coolly. “She and her crew overstepped their mark when they removed him from his temporary carer and brought him to you.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Sheppard said evenly. “The only reason Atlantis hasn’t scrapped any alliance between our two peoples completely is that Olin did the right thing and brought me my kid after Larrin died. Now as I said, if that’s all?”

“We want the child back,” Presh interrupted. “Aran is a Traveler, his mother was a Traveler. He belongs with his people.”

Sheppard straightened his stance, feeling his team close in behind him. “Aran is my son, and he belongs with his father. Not a bunch of scumbags who only created him for the gene he carries, and who only want him back now for that same gene.” He lowered his voice and took a step closer to Presh. “I would blow the entire Traveler fleet from the sky before I let you get your hands on my son, or any other gene carrier amongst my people. Got it?”

“You have no right to make such threats to us,” Presh said, his voice calm. Sheppard noted the nervous looks exchanged between his entourage and gave them his best cold smile. Rodney said it made him look half crazy, and John had taken it as a compliment and dedicated himself to flashing it at everyone he wanted to make nervous.

“Rights?” Sheppard said softly. “You talk to me about rights? After what your people did to me?”

“That was Captain Larrin,” Presh said haughtily. “She acted alone.”

“Bullshit,” Sheppard shot back. “You people staked out space gates looking for gene carriers, attacked my ship, took me prisoner, violated my person, and took away my DNA while I was unconscious. Don’t tell me that wasn’t a plot that went further and deeper than just one captain.”

Presh was pale now in the face of Sheppard’s cold rage, but he held his ground. “I maintain that it was Captain Larrin and her crew who ill used you,” he said steadily. “Of course I can understand your justifiable anger at what was done to you. But surely you understand that we live in a constant state of war, and that in war sometimes even the most well meaning can cross a line.”

“Cross a line,” Sheppard repeated. “You stole my children from me. If Larrin hadn’t had an attack of conscience on her deathbed, I wouldn’t even have known they existed.”

Presh paled further, glancing over his shoulder at one of his companions. “Olin told you about the others? About what happened to them?” Presh shook his head. “That was ill done of her. Why burden you with that knowledge?”

“Because they were my children,” Sheppard said angrily, taking a step forward. Rodney laid a hand on his arm and he resisted the urge to shake it off, taking a deep breath, and then another as he stared into Presh’s pale blue eyes. “My children,” he said more evenly. “I couldn’t save them, I couldn’t protect them, but the least they deserve is to be mourned by their father.”

He turned away, aware that Ronon and Teyla had stepped between him and the Travelers, and that Rodney’s hand was still warm and firm on his arm. Sheppard closed his eyes and suppressed his rage before finally turning and facing Presh and his sweating companions. 

“You know what?” he said coolly. “I’m done with this. My son is beyond your reach now, and you can forget calling on Atlantis or the Lanteans for anything from now on. I don’t trust you, Presh, and I don’t trust your people. I didn’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice. Our alliance is done. Come near me or mine again and I will end you, no questions asked.”

“You don’t have the right to make that decision,” Presh protested as Sheppard turned on his heel and walked away, flanked by his team. “Colonel Sheppard,” he called after them angrily. “You have no right to do this!”

“Watch me,” Sheppard muttered.

:: :: :: 

“Woolsey will back you up,” Rodney said confidently

“He’d better,” Ronon rumbled. 

“He will,” Teyla said firmly. “Colonel Sheppard is right. If we can’t trust an ally then they can’t be our ally. Perhaps if Presh had come here to offer apologies on behalf of his people, or reparations for the grave wrong done to the Colonel, and all Lanteans, then we could have maintained our alliance. But to simply demand we hand Aran over to them.”

“Unbelievable,” Rodney muttered. 

“Colonel Sheppard?” 

The team stopped and turned as one, weapons at the ready as a woman called from behind them. Sheppard recognised her as the oldest of the two women who had flanked Presh at the meeting.

She stopped, holding out her hands to show they held no weapons. “Please,” she panted. “I’m not armed, I just wanted to give you this.” She indicated a rough cloth bag slung over shoulder. 

The team didn’t lower their weapons. “What is it?” Teyla asked, as Sheppard seemed disinclined to speak. 

“Aran’s things,” the woman said. She was solidly middle aged, greying hair cut short and curling tightly around a soft, smooth face. Her eyes were pale green, a startling contrast to her brown skin. Like all Travelers she wore a mish mash of clothing, a pale blue woollen smock, leather leggings beneath. “I begged to Presh to allow me to come, in case you really did bring Aran back. May I?” She shrugged the bag from her shoulder.

“Just lay it down,” Sheppard instructed. “And back away.”

The woman did as instructed, watching with wide eyes as Ronon tipped the bag’s contents onto the grass and shuffled through them with the barrel of his gun. Small clothes, a few folded cloths, a wooden set of rings that rattled as Ronon shifted it, and a kind of a furry teddy bear sort of thing, with floppy, well chewed ears.

“It’s clear,” Ronon said. 

“Who are you?” Teyla asked, as the woman hesitantly approached and began placing the meagre contents back into the bag.

“I’m Amma of the Traveler ship Iambis,” the woman said, straightening with a hand to her back.

Teyla shot a look at Sheppard, and again Rodney took his arm in a tight hold.

“You took care of Aran,” Sheppard said slowly. Amma’s pale face lit up.

“He remembers me?” she said, and then her smile faded away. “He misses me,” she realised. 

“He calls for you,” Teyla said, and tears sprang into Amma’s eyes. “How is it you had care of him?”

Amma wiped her eyes with her sleeve, sniffing. “Larrin didn’t have any time for him,” she said sadly. “Once he was born it was like she could hardly bear to look at him.” She shot a quick glance at Sheppard. “Now I know why. What she did was shameful. I think her conscience was troubling her.”

“Like she had a conscience,” Sheppard said bitterly.

Amma shrugged. “I can’t say for sure what she felt. But I’d lost my own little ones to a fever when I was a young woman, so I often took care of the smaller children, before they were apprenticed out to learn their trades. Larrin asked me to watch over Aran for a short time, and then…” Amma shrugged again. “She never really came back.”

“So Olin took him from you?” Teyla said, her voice sympathetic even as she kept her expression even. 

Amma nodded. “It was only later I found out why.” She gestured to the cloth bag again. “I didn’t think you’d bring him back, not once you found out he existed. But I couldn’t bear the idea of him being alone, without his things.” Tears filled her eyes again, but this time she didn’t wipe them away, they ran down her smooth cheeks in steady tracks.

Teyla exchanged a helpless glance with Sheppard, who nodded curtly. She stepped forward and accepted the bag.

“Is he… is he all right?” Amma asked softly. 

“He’s fine,” Teyla said gently.

“Amma,” Sheppard said abruptly. “Do you have family to go back to? Anyone waiting for you amongst the Travelers?”

Amma frowned, looking confused. “What?”

“Aran needs someone to take care of him when I’m working,” Sheppard explained. “It might be only temporary, until I send him to my homeworld.”

“Colonel,” Rodney said in a warning tone, but Sheppard raised his hand. 

“Would you be willing to come? Would your people take you back if you left with us?”

Amma looked a little dazed. “I have no one waiting for me,” she said slowly. “I own little more than I’m standing up in. I don’t know if my people would take me back if I left, but I can’t say I care.” She stepped forward hesitantly, her face hopeful. “If I can be with Aran again, I don’t care.”

“Sheppard, you sure about this?”

“What will Woolsey say?” 

“John?”

Sheppard just stared at Amma for a few moments longer, and she met his gaze fearlessly with tear damp eyes. “You can come with us,” he finally said.

:: :: ::

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Rodney hissed at him as they walked the last few hundred metres to the gate and the awaiting jumpers. Teyla was walking alongside Amma behind them, conversing with her in low tones. Ronon took the rear, watching the trail behind them. 

“She loves him, Rodney. And he misses her.”

“She’s one of them though,” Rodney said, glancing at the life signs detector automatically. “How can you trust her?”

“If Aran rememberers her, if she really is the Amma he’s been calling for, then I don’t think she’d ever harm him. And what can she do working as a nursemaid? Besides, I’ve already broken off the alliance without consulting Woolsey. He’s going to be too mad about that to worry too much about one woman.”

“You hope,” Rodney said sceptically. “Does this mean you’re thinking of keeping Aran on Atlantis after all?”

John had no answer for Rodney. He still didn’t have one for himself.

:: :: ::

John leaned back against a gurney watching from across the infirmary as Amma patiently sat and let the nurse take her blood. The reality of what he’d done was just setting in. “What the hell was I thinking?”

“It’s not too late to take her back,” Ronon growled.

“I think it is.” Rodney smirked. “Sheppard kind of burned her bridges behind her.”

“You were thinking of the welfare of your son,” Teyla said firmly.

“Was I?” John said. “Or was I just thinking I could palm him off to someone else?”

“I recall how difficult it was to reconcile my new role as a parent with my place in Atlantis and on the team,” Teyla reminded him. “I could not manage both without people to help me, especially Kanaan. It’s not selfish to want your work and your family, John.”

“Yeah, why should you give up your career to be a single mom?” Rodney said sarcastically. He frowned defensively when Teyla turned a baleful gaze on him. “I’m just saying, she came with that Presh character. Who’s to say she’s really the Amma Aran has been calling for? She could have been planted in the group for that reason.”

Ronon grunted agreement. 

“We can soon find that out,” Teyla murmured, turning to the infirmary doors where Kanaan stood, a sturdy toddler on each hip. At a wave from Teyla he set them both on the floor, steadying them with a hand behind each back until they found their feet. 

“Look, Torren,” he said. “There’s mama.”

Torren beamed at her and rushed over, more like a little boy than a baby now, as he approached his second birthday. Aran toddled along behind him, then stopped in his tracks and stared for a minute. “Amma!” he yelled, and then he was racing across the smooth floor into the open arms of his nursemaid. She crouched, holding him close, burying her face in his neck, tears on her cheeks. “Amma Amma,” Aran was saying joyously.

“Well that answers that much,” Rodney retorted, but John wasn’t really listening. All his attention was fixed on his son in a stranger’s arms. The son he’d only known for three days, the son who had spoken few words to him but was now babbling away into the stranger’s ear as she stood and lifted him into her arms.

There was an odd, dull kind of pain in his chest now, an old echo but a familiar one. The loss of his mother. The rejection by his father. His brother coldly asking him his expectations. Nancy walking away when it all got too hard. 

Aran patted Amma’s damp cheek, and John came back to himself as Rodney squeezed his arm tightly. 

“Dada,” Aran was saying to Amma’s smiling face. “Dada.” The little boy turned his head and instantly his face lit up, hazel eyes bright, mouth smiling. “Dada!” he said happily. “Look, Dada. Amma! Amma, Dada!”

“Well go on,” Rodney was hissing in his ear and shoving him forward. And then John was gathering his son in his arms as plump little hands reached out for him, patted his cheeks, rubbed his stubbled chin. 

“Hey, buddy,” John said huskily, and Aran smiled back and laid his head on his father’s shoulder.

“Hey, Dada,” Aran said.

“Well I guess that’s that,” Rodney was saying.

And John thought: Yeah. 

:: :: ::

“Look, look, I know,” John said as Woolsey opened his mouth. “I’m sorry, I had no right to unilaterally break our alliance with the Travelers. But, these guys were not happy to lose Aran’s gene, and I really think our gene carriers could be in danger from them in the future. I mean, Larrin kidnapped me to start with, and she would have held onto me too, if she hadn’t already taken what she wanted from me. And you yourself said –“

“Colonel, please,” Woolsey said over the top of his speech. “I have no problem with your breaking the alliance, I was certainly leaning in that direction already, and Captain Presh’s attitude over this whole travesty settled my mind on the matter.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I’m afraid, however, that I do take exception to you virtually hiring a Traveler woman as a nanny for your child, and bringing her back here without any consultation with me at all.”

Sheppard collapsed into a chair, rubbing wearily at his eyes. “It wasn’t exactly like that,” he said defensively. Woolsey pierced him with a glance and he shrugged. “Okay, I guess it was. I mean, I didn’t exactly hire her, but the rest is true. It all happened so fast, and if I hadn’t brought her here now I don’t think I would have ever seen her again.”

“So why her? What’s her connection to the boy?”

John explained about Aran calling for Amma, about the woman being a widow who’d lost her own children in her youth, how she’d virtually raised Aran from the day he was born. “His mother is dead, and while I’m not feeling particularly well disposed towards her people right now, they are half his heritage. There’s a lot I will never be able to give him,” John said starkly. “But if Amma is cleared as a refugee, I can give Aran some part of his heritage. And someone who loves him.”

“And you’re okay with that? What happens to this woman if you decide to send Aran back to Earth?”

John bit his lip, because while he hadn’t admitted to himself that he’d made any firm decisions yet, one thing was pretty clear to him. He couldn’t even imagine at this point taking Aran to Earth and leaving him there.

John didn’t speak, but Woolsey must have seen something on his face, because he breathed out a sigh and leaned forward in his chair. “What I’m about to tell you goes no farther than this room, Colonel,” he said seriously. “I want your guarantee on that.”

“Okay.”

“Within three months I’m going to be recalled by the IOA, and I have it on the highest authority that you will be offered the position as Commander of Atlantis.”

John blinked, genuinely blindsided. “What?”

“You were on the short list for the job once I notified the IOA that I wouldn’t be signing another contract, and now your promotion to full bird has been finalised, and Lorne has achieved the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, you will naturally be offered the job. If your recommendation matches my own, Lorne will assume duties as military commander when you take over my role.”

“I can’t think of anyone who would do a better job,” John said, still reeling with shock. 

“Now nothing is written in stone, which is why everything I’ve told you is in the strictest confidence.”

“Understood,” John acknowledged. “So why are you telling me?”

Woolsey sighed. “Because you’re facing some huge choices, and I think you have the right to make those choices from a fully informed position.”

“I... Thank you,” John said blankly, then blinked and heaved in a breath. “No, really. Thank you. That does make a huge difference.”

“I thought it might. As Commander of Atlantis you won’t be part of an away team, which will minimise your risks. You’ll have somewhat more stable hours. And frankly, with the changes made and the Wraith on the run, Atlantis will start to become less of an outpost and more an actual SGC base. More personnel, more researchers, family groups. There’s even talk of colonisation in the Pegasus galaxy, once the Stargate Program is declassified.”

John’s head was reeling. Colonisation?

Woolsey continued. “Dr McKay will have far more responsibility as department head, and the job you take over will be very different from the one I’ve been doing, or Colonel Carter, or even Dr Weir did.”

“It is a different galaxy from the one we stepped into six years ago,” Sheppard agreed. “Was it really only six years? So much has happened. So much has been lost.”

“True,” Woolsey acknowledged. “And certainly this galaxy has paid a heavy price for our coming here.”

Sheppard thought back over the heavy price, some burdens he still personally felt he bore. Sumner. Waking the Wraith. Ford. The Hoffan Virus. Carson. Michael. The Replicators. Elizabeth. Many people had died because of their mistakes. 

But on the other hand, because of their successes, the Replicators could never emerge as a threat again. With the destruction of their breeding ground the Wraith had all but been driven to extinction, their once dominant hive ships now in hiding and on the run. 

“The price was high,” Woolsey said again, his own thoughts obviously following the same path as John’s. “But if the alternative for Pegasus was the status quo and another 10,000 years of being culled like livestock, well. Maybe it’s not for us to say. But hopefully history will judge us kindly.”

John was less concerned at that moment with history than he was with the present and immediate future. He walked to the mess hall with light steps, his mind whirling with new possibilities. Commander of Atlantis. Not just military CO, but leader of the entire outpost.

No more away missions, which would take some getting used to, but on the other hand his knees would thank him. Those long hikes with full packs seemed to get longer and harder every year.

And Rodney would be safe on Atlantis, devoting himself full time to the work he thrived on. They were so close to recharging a ZPM now, and that kind of power for themselves and Earth would make all the difference.

Ronon would be okay, in fact John thought maybe he’d like his own team. Or if he wanted something a bit safer now he was contemplating marriage and fatherhood, he could certainly be put in charge of training. Something to discuss with Lorne.

Teyla now, John had ideas about that. The one thing he dreaded about leadership was the diplomatic side, and who was better at Pegasus diplomacy than Teyla Emmagan? 

Mind whirling with ideas John paused in the doorway of the mess hall, instantly locating his team in their now usual corner by the windows. Someone had spread a blanket on the floor near the team’s table and scattered fat cushions and toys upon it.

Torren and Aran sat in the middle, surrounded by women, all chatting and laughing. Miko and Simpson and Keller. A few nurses and scientists John didn’t know personally. Amma smiling shyly at Teyla. Even Amelia, sitting cross legged behind Aran, helping him build a structure using colourful wooden blocks.

“What’s this?” he said quietly to Rodney, who was sitting nearby, datapad propped against a huge bowl of fruit.

“The future,” Rodney said wryly. He shot John a glance and frowned. “You okay? You look a bit dazed.”

John patted his knee under the table and smiled at him. “I’ll tell you later,” he promised. Rodney quirked a brow, but at that moment Aran spotted him and clambered to his knees and then his feet, half a dozen hands reaching out to steady him on his sturdy little legs.

“Dada,” he said, toddling over. “Look, dada. Toys. Come play, okay? Come play?”

John gathered him up and couldn’t resist a smacking kiss to a plump cheek, causing Aran to giggle and a room full of women to sigh. Rodney just rolled his eyes and snorted, but his own smile was fond as he shook his head.

“Looks like it’s love,” he teased, and John gave him the answer his smiling eyes demanded.

“Yeah. I guess I win.”


End file.
